Date: Thu, 17 May 2018 09:09:10 -0700
From: Wayne Gray
Subject: Chapter 15 - Camp Refuge
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___________________________________ June 05, 2018 (Tuesday, 4:35 AM)
Clay woke at an annoyingly early hour, thanks to his lack of adjustment to
Pacific Coast time. Instead of trying to go back to sleep he sighed and
got up. He dressed in a sweatshirt, sweats, and tennis shoes. The morning
air was cold inside the cabin, so he knew he'd need the warm clothes.
He also needed coffee. He left his cabin and began walking to the kitchen.
It was dark and misty out, and almost silent. Apart from the river, there
were only the little sounds of a sleeping forest.
As he got close, Clay noticed a figure sitting at the picnic table.
"Mornin'." Orson sipped a steaming mug of sweet, black coffee. "You still
on Alabama time too?"
Clay laughed. "Yeah. Morning, Orson." He saw a half-full french press on
the sink counter, and he made a happy little noise. "I'm stealing the rest
of your coffee. I'll start more water too."
Orson nodded.
Clay poured a mug of coffee and started another pot on the stove. Then he
walked around to have a seat across from Orson. He took a sip and eyed
Orson's crutches where they leaned against the tree near the table. "You
manage okay?"
Orson made a face, but he nodded. "It's an adjustment. Everything is at
least a little harder. Boiling water. Digging into the cabinet for the
French press." He waved a hand at the crutches. "You should try balancing
on one leg and a crutch while pouring boiling water into coffee grounds."
Clay smiled sympathetically. "I'd probably end up with second-degree
burns." He reached across the table and patted Orson's shoulder. "Thanks
for making coffee."
Orson nodded, then he sighed. "You're welcome. And, I'm sorry about the
bellyaching. I just need to get over it." He looked around. "I know how
lucky I am that you guys offered to put me up here." His eyes found
Clay's. "Thanks for that."
Clay held up his hands. "Hey, you're paying rent. You're paying your
way."
Orson smiled. For a minute the two men only sat and enjoyed the quiet,
peace, and the warm mugs against the palms of their hands.
"So," Orson still looked at his mug, "you wanna talk about anything?" He
glanced up at Clay's face.
The big man took a deep breath and let it out. "Damn it. You heard us,
huh?"
Orson shrugged. "I heard some. Just that you guys were upset." Orson
eyed him. "And that you slept in the cabin." He motioned with his head at
Clay's little cabin. "I watched you walk over here from it."
Clay grunted. "Sorry about that." He looked down at his coffee,
embarrassed. He shrugged. "I guess there's nothing really to talk about.
Mason wants to have a relationship with Jeremy, and I don't want him to.
That's it."
Orson looked at him. "Well, it's pretty obvious those guys like each
other. You can tell from how they interact." He cocked his head to the
side. "What's wrong with that? Are you hung up on Mason's age? Because
that won't be an issue soon."
Clay made a face. "What you don't know is Jeremy has HIV." He looked up
at Orson for a reaction.
The younger man sat back. He was initially surprised, but that changed to
a thoughtful look on his face. "Well ... did they use protection? Or were
they planning to?"
Clay stared at Orson. "Wh ... It doesn't matter if they did." Clay shook
his head. "No form of protection is 100%. Eventually, Mason will get it
if they continue to screw around."
Orson frowned. "Clay, man, that's some crazy logic, and flat-out wrong."
Orson tapped his chin. "But let's forget about the protection stuff. What
would you say if Mason told you he wanted to be a cop?"
Clay sensed a trap of some kind, but he answered anyway. "I'd be proud of
him. And I'd try to encourage him." He paused, realizing where this was
going. "But ... I'd worry."
"But you wouldn't FORBID him from doing it." Orson picked up his mug. He
looked over the rim of the mug at Clay. "We both know police-work is
dangerous. What's the difference?" While Clay struggled, he took a long
drink of his coffee.
The big man had a terrific look of concentration on his face. He
swallowed, and his brows knit together. "I ... it's just different."
Inwardly Clay tried to figure out why.
Orson licked his lips, slightly nervous. "Do you want a genuine opinion
here?"
Clay already knew he wouldn't like it, but he nodded. "I do."
The black-haired man took a deep breath. "Mason is about to be an adult,
Clay. And if you stand in the way of what he wants to do, without a DAMN
good reason? One you can explain? Then he's going to resent you. And
when he turns eighteen, he'll do what he wants anyway." Orson tapped the
table with one finger. "AND ... you may be sleeping in that cabin some
more. Because Greg and Mason seem pretty tight."
Clay sat and stared at his mug, and at the steam as it slowly rose from the
black liquid inside. He did not want to believe what Orson said, and he
tried to punch holes in the argument. He couldn't so he came up with
another tactic.
"But, Mason kept this from me. He's taking that PrEP stuff. He PLANNED
this, and he didn't tell me."
Orson looked deadpan at him. "So you're upset because Mason took every
step he possibly could to be safe? Or you're upset because Mason was
afraid you'd react exactly how you're reacting right now?"
Clay felt like he'd been slugged. He leaned back on the bench and grimaced
at Orson. "I ..." he frowned, "you make me sound like the bad guy."
Orson laughed a little. "Nah, you're not a bad guy. There is no bad guy.
There's only a dad trying to protect his son, and a son who is trying to
grow up and make his own decisions."
Clay swallowed and looked down again. Slowly his face went slack.
Orson didn't say anything. He only watched Clay as he worked through it in
his head.
"Fuck. You're right." Clay rubbed his mouth. "I fucked this up." He sat
straight and ran his hands over his short, salt and pepper hair. "Fuck.
Everybody's pissed at me." His eyes suddenly looked hurt and injured.
"And ... god, that poor kid - Jeremy." He grimaced. "I was just so
... set on keeping Mason safe." He shook his head. "I didn't care that I
hurt him."
The younger man shrugged. "Well, what are you gonna do about it?"
Clay groaned. "Eat a lot of crow, that's what." He slumped. "I still
don't like Mason seeing Jeremy."
"Why? Is it because you don't like Jeremy? Or is it purely the HIV?"
Clay didn't have to think about this. "It's the HIV. I don't have a
problem with Jeremy. He seems like a decent young man."
Orson nodded. "Okay. Then I think you need some information on the
condition, because you're better than that. You aren't the kind of guy to
dislike someone because of something they can't help."
Clay sighed. "Mason sent me some stuff on it." He wiped his face and
nodded. "I'll read it."
"Good. Because it sounds like Mason is trying to be responsible." He
smiled at Clay. "You raised a smart kid."
Clay laughed. "I raised a stubborn one too!" He made a face. "God, he
was mad. I hope he'll talk to me today."
Orson smiled. "I think if you lead with 'I was wrong' he will." He
laughed. "I know that would have made me stop in my tracks if my dad ever
said that to me."
The big man took a breath and let it out. "Yeah. Okay. I'm gonna try."
He then looked at Orson, a question obviously on his mind. "How the hell
did you get to be so damn smart?"
The younger man laughed, this time loudly. "People make sense to me. What
they feel, how they work, why they do things." He shrugged. "I even
studied psych for a while before I switched to Criminal Justice."
Clay looked impressed. "I think you should pick that up again.
Seriously." He looked genuinely thankful. "I appreciate your help with
this."
Orson waved his hand. "You would have figured it out."
"Yeah. In a month." Clay snorted at himself. "Maybe." He sighed. "I
think I'm going to ambush my son now. Before he has a chance to wake up
and stew over what happened."
Orson looked over at the stove. "You better pour that boiling water into
the press, and take that young man a coffee if you do that."
Clay nodded in agreement. "Peace offering, I like that."
He got up and made the next batch of coffee. After he refilled his own and
Orson's mugs, he poured some for Mason. Cream and sugar went in, and he
looked over at Orson as he started on his way to Mason's cabin - a mug in
each hand.
"Wish me luck."
Orson held up his mug. "Good luck!"
Clay smiled, a little nervously. "Thanks." The big man put a determined
look on his face, and he walked across the grass and between the trees to
the cabin.
With a deep breath, Clay opened Mason's door.
___________________________________
The smell of coffee was the first thing Mason noticed. Groggy, he opened
his eyes. Inside the cabin, it was pretty dark, but he could see enough.
There, at eye-level on a chair that was pulled up next to the bed, was a
mug of coffee, and it steamed invitingly in the morning air. He sat up on
his elbow, confused. Then he noticed his dad as he leaned against the wall
a few feet away.
Mason glared at him. "Coffee won't make me like you again." But Mason
still picked up the mug. He was pleasantly surprised to see it had cream.
'At least he knows that much about me,' he thought irritably.
"I know." Clay took a couple of steps and then he sat on the floor beside
the bed.
It reminded Mason of when he was little and afraid of the dark, or when he
woke from a bad dream. His dad would sit by his bed and rub his back until
he finally drifted to sleep. He pushed aside the sweet memory. "I don't
want to talk to you." He took his coffee and sat forward on his rump with
his knees folded up and the soles of his feet on the bed. He looked
straight ahead, unwilling to see his dad. He took a sip. 'Sugar too.'
Another small surprise.
"Well, then let me talk." Clay sighed heavily. "I've been thinking, and
uh, I was wrong."
Despite his determination to ignore Clay, Mason looked at him. Mason's
face told the story. "W ... what?"
"I was wrong." Clay said again, this time louder.
Mason stared at Clay. Then he finally blinked and shook his head. "Did
... did you read the stuff I sent you?"
"No. Not yet. I will, but I don't really need to." Clay put his hand on
the bed, his palm up. "If you tell me, you're doing everything, EVERYTHING
you can to stay healthy ... then," he licked his lips, and Mason could tell
this was hard for Clay, "then I'm going to do what I should have done at
the start. I'm going to trust you."
Mason looked down at Clay's hand. He fought against his emotions, and he
felt his anger dwindle to nearly nothing. He cleared his throat. "I
promise, dad." Mason reached and put his hand in Clay's. He squeezed and
released after a moment. Then Mason hung his head. "But, it doesn't
matter. Jeremy isn't texting me back or taking my calls."
Clay patted Mason's leg. "Well, we know where he works, right?" The
teenager looked at Clay, and his dad smiled. "Come on, son. I know you're
not gonna give up on this." His face grew contrite. "Don't let me ruin
this for you. I don't want that. Not anymore."
Mason tried to stop it, but he felt himself break. "Really?" His eyes
began to well up, and he laughed softly. "You'd let me go get him?"
"If that's what you want. Yeah." Clay frowned at him. "Don't cry, damn
it." Clay shook his head, and Mason could tell he was trying to avoid it
himself.
Mason laughed, and tears ran down his face. He put his coffee cup down on
the chair and leaned over. The two men hugged, and Clay smiled over
Mason's shoulder. "I really am sorry, son."
Mason nodded and the two separated. "Yeah. I know. I can tell." He bit
his lip. "Did Greg talk to you or something? About Jeremy and me?"
Clay rubbed his head. "Orson did. Greg's kind of upset with me right now.
Or at least I think he is." He grimaced as he remembered what he said to
Greg. "He should be."
Mason gaped at him. "Dad! What'd you do?"
"Just being my idiot self." Clay got to his feet. "I need to make it up
to him."
Mason wiped his eyes. "Well, it's gonna take more than coffee. I'd start
with breakfast."
Clay made a face of approval. "Huh. That's not a bad idea." He pursed
his lips. "I wonder if we have the stuff to make pancakes."
"We do, and I want some too." Mason grinned at Clay and laughed as the big
man frowned at him.
Clay shook his head. "I feel set up." But he smiled at his son. "I'll
make pancakes for all of us. Then after we eat and the clinic opens, we'll
take a trip to the city."
Mason nodded, his eyes bright as he looked at Clay. "Sounds good, dad."
Clay nodded once. "Okay. I'm gonna get busy." He walked to the door.
His dad left, and Mason stared at the door. "Wow." He shook his head with
a smile and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Miracles do happen."
__________________________________
Greg heard the Airstream door open. It was just getting light outside, and
he sat up in bed. Clay looked around the divider of the bed area.
"Hey." A smile barely touched his lips.
"Hey." Greg then noticed a smell that made his mouth water. "Did you make
bacon?"
Clay grinned, and he revealed a plate of food. Two big pancakes with syrup
and butter, three strips of bacon and two over medium eggs were on one of
their big serving platters. Clay had used it as a huge plate, and he
walked over with it.
"Here. Get comfortable." Clay waited while Greg put his back against the
wall. Once Greg stopped moving he put the plate on Greg's blanket covered
thighs. Then he handed Greg silverware wrapped in a napkin he had carried
in his pocket.
Greg eyed him and took the silverware out of the napkin. "This is a good
start." He sniffed. "No coffee though."
Clay didn't say anything. He stepped outside, and then back in with a mug
of hot black coffee. It was through a tremendous act of will that Greg
didn't laugh or smile. He looked over everything, and he nodded. "Okay.
This is almost enough." Greg looked at Clay, expectantly.
Clay sighed. "I'm sorry. I really am." He looked appropriately
chagrined. "I screwed up."
"Uh huh. And are you going to apologize to your son?" Greg began to cut
his pancakes.
"Already have. We're going to take a trip into town later. See if we can
find Jeremy so I can apologize to him."
Greg looked up at Clay as if he had grown another head. "What?" He
blinked. "Really?"
"Yeah." Clay frowned. "Why is that so hard to believe?"
Greg didn't mean to, but he brayed a laugh. He made a face and put his
hand over his mouth. Clay's frown intensified, and he cocked his head at
Greg.
Greg finally was able to form actual words. "Because I know you!" He
waved a hand at Clay. "You usually come around to the right thing, but not
this fast!"
Clay continued to glare at Greg, then the expression slipped. "Yeah
... well, I talked to Orson about it. And he helped me see that, ah, I may
not have been very rational." Clay pointed at Greg. "I still don't like
it - that Mason wants to be with Jeremy. It scares the fuck out of me."
He slowly lowered his hand. "But ... you're right. I need to trust him.
It's not my life."
Greg took that in then he shook his head. "Wow." He shoved a bite of
pancake into his mouth and chewed as he looked at Clay. He swallowed the
morsel. "Whatever Orson told you, I wish I could bottle that."
Clay rolled his eyes. "I'm not that bad."
Greg tried not to, but he laughed again.
__________________________________
It was just before 7 AM when Clay and Mason pulled into the parking lot of
the clinic in Crescent City. There were already some cars there, and a few
people waited at the door for it to open.
The men sat in the van until someone from inside opened the doors. Then
they followed the small crowd inside.
There were four receptionists, so the line moved quickly. And then it was
their turn.
"Hi. I'm Brenda. Do you have an appointment today?"
"Ah, no. But we need to see Jeremy Adams." Mason said.
One of the other women at the front desk looked over when Mason said
Jeremy's name. "Oh. Well, he's usually here by now, but he hasn't made it
in yet." She seemed to recognize Mason from before. "I'll buzz you
through."
The door that led deeper into the clinic vibrated, and Mason grabbed the
handle. Soon they were seated outside Jeremy's office in a small waiting
area.
After about ten minutes Mason stood up and began to pace. Clay watched
him, but he kept silent.
"Mason?" Dr. Wade walked down the hallway. "Were you looking ..." as he
came around the corner, he saw Clay sitting in the chair. "Oh. Hello.
I'm Dr. Evan Wade."
Clay introduced himself, and Mason interjected as soon as he could.
"Dr. Wade, where's Jeremy? We need to talk to him."
The doctor looked a little worried at the closed door of Jeremy's office.
"His first patient isn't till 8, but he's always here an hour early so he
can prepare and be ready to go." Evan looked back and forth between Clay
and Mason. "Did something happen?"
Clay cleared his throat. "There was a misunderstanding. And we're looking
for him to make it right."
Dr. Wade seemed to process what Clay said. "I see." He glanced at Mason.
"Is there any reason to think he's upset?"
Both of the Jameson men took on a grim expression and nodded.
Evan bit his lip. "I usually wouldn't do this ... but I think maybe it's
for the greater good. Would you two be willing to go check in on him, at
his apartment? It's not far."
Mason looked at Clay, and the big man nodded. Dr. Wade seemed relieved.
"Okay, good." He wrote his own cell number and Jeremy's address on a
sticky note. The address, Mason entered into the mapping program on his
phone. "I'll tell the front desk that he called out and that we need to
reschedule his patients. When you guys find him, CALL me. Okay?"
Mason was getting more and more concerned. "Okay." His face was worried.
"Doc, is there something wrong?"
Dr. Wade sighed and looked at them both. "I hope not." He smiled
reassuringly. "Go on. Let me know when you find him. And, thank you."
The two men left. Clay drove while Mason gave him directions. Soon they
pulled up in front of a two-story apartment complex. It had a brick
facade, and metal railings on the second floors. It was middle of the road
- not the best or the worst in the city.
They walked up the stairwell and stopped in front of apartment 2B. Clay
knocked. The two of them heard movement inside, and then nothing. Mason
stepped up to the door.
"Jeremy! Jeremy, it's me. Let me in."
There was more movement, and the two of them heard something scrape against
the other side of the door. "Go away, Mason." Jeremy's voice was raw and
gravelly.
"I'm not going away. Let me in." Mason knocked again. "Jeremy, please?"
There was silence for a long moment.
Clay reached past Mason and tried the door. It wasn't locked, and he
merely pushed it open.
Jeremy stood a step away. He wore only a pair of briefs, and his hair was
thoroughly disheveled. He gaped at the two. "Hey. You can't just come in
here." Mason couldn't help but take him in. He was a hairy guy. He had a
reddish brown pelt all over, but mainly on his trunk. And Mason also
noticed his small waist and the moderate bulge in his shorts.
Mason stepped into a tidy little apartment. There were lots of books on
shelves in the living room, a compact sound system, and a laptop computer
set up at a small desk. There was also a nearly empty bottle of Jack
Daniels on the coffee table. Clay followed and closed the door. "Jeremy,
we just need to talk." He looked behind at Clay.
Clay nodded. "Jeremy, I'm sorry. I should never have tried to get between
you boys." He gave Jeremy a little smile. "You're welcome at the camp,
anytime you like."
Mason looked hopefully at Jeremy. The redhead stared at Clay for a moment.
He swallowed, then he began to shake his head - the motion exaggerated and
slowed. "Nooooo. You were right." He flopped down on his couch and
reached for the open bottle of whiskey. "Just like dad was. You're
right." He nodded sagely and turned up the bottle.
Clay and Mason watched as he took three big gulps of alcohol. Clay stepped
forward and gently took the bottle. "Son, that's enough." His eyes were
worried. He looked at Mason. "Give me your phone."
Mason handed his phone to Clay, and the big man pulled up a number. Mason
sat beside Jeremy on the couch. He heard his dad begin to speak to
Dr. Wade. But his attention was on Jeremy.
The redhead sat with his elbows on his knees, and his head down. Mason
could tell he was very drunk. Mason gently reached and put his hand on
Jeremy's back. The small man jumped a little, then made a slight noise as
Mason began to slowly stroke his spine.
Mason didn't say anything. But he watched Jeremy's face from the side. He
saw Jeremy's eyes close, and his bottom lip trembled.
"You ... you shouldn't be nice to me." He whispered as Mason petted him.
He shook his head. "I don't deserve it."
Mason's heart felt as if someone had plunged a spear into it. "Why would
you say that?" He continued to rub Jeremy's back gently. "I want to be
nice to you. It makes me happy."
Jeremy's face screwed up, and he began to cry. "I don't ... I don't
deserve it."
Mason put his arm around Jeremy's shoulders, and the redhead leaned against
him, his face against Mason's chest. Clay stepped near, and Mason looked
up at him with a worried and lost expression.
Clay stared down at them. "I called the doc. He said that he'd let the
clinic know Jeremy's not coming in tomorrow too."
"What'd you tell him?" Mason looked back down at Jeremy who was still
crying.
Clay blew out a breath. "I didn't know if he'd get in trouble for this
... so I told him we found him asleep on the couch - sick." Clay smiled a
little. "Pretty sure he knew I was lying, but he also sounded happy to
spread it."
Mason smiled up at him. "Thanks, dad."
"Sure." Clay looked at a barely conscious Jeremy. "It's probably not a
good idea for him to be alone tonight." He glanced at Mason. "You think
he'd have us prosecuted for kidnapping if we took him home with us?"
Mason almost couldn't believe what he heard. He blinked up at Clay. "I
don't think he'd do that."
Clay nodded. "Okay. Let's find him a couple of changes of clothes, and
gather up his bathroom stuff."
A few minutes later they had dressed Jeremy in some loose fitting clothes
and gotten him in the van. Mason sat in the second-row seat beside him.
The redhead was utterly inebriated. They just arrived at the campground
and opened the door when he lurched forward and vomited beside the van. It
smelled of whiskey and pickles. And that's the moment Mason and Clay
learned that Jeremy liked to eat dill pickles when he drank whiskey.
Clay made a face and shook his head. "At least he did that OUTSIDE the
van." Mason laughed, and Clay looked over to share a smile with him.
It was now a bit after 8:30 AM and Greg watched from the loop with a raised
eyebrow. He was doing one of his chores - walking the grounds, loading up
trash from the bins in use into large black bags. He put his bag down
beside a bin and walked over.
"Hey, guys. What's going on?" Greg observed Jeremy as the redhead looked
blearily around.
"We're having a guest for the day, and probably tomorrow too." Clay gently
patted Jeremy's back. "And ... I'm going to go to the Hiouchi market for
some Gatorade. I think Red here is gonna need it." He sighed. "Should
have thought of that before we left Crescent City." He shrugged. "Ah
well." Clay put a hand on Mason's shoulder. "You're in charge of him."
He looked Mason in the eye. "He makes a mess, or needs help; it's all you.
All right?" Clay looked meaningfully at the half-digested pickles beside
the van.
Mason nodded. "I got it, dad. No problem." Mason quickly agreed to the
responsibility.
Clay left for Hiouchi. Mason got Jeremy to his feet, and he began to lead
him to his cabin. "I'm gonna put him to bed. Then I'll come back and
clean up that mess."
Greg smiled at Mason. "Okay." He watched as the two young men slowly
walked to the cabin. "Hey, Mason."
The teen turned as he opened the cabin door. "Yeah?"
Greg grinned broadly at him. "I'm really proud of your dad."
Mason broke into a grin of his own. "Yeah. Me too."
He helped Jeremy inside. Then he stripped the redhead down to his briefs
and lay him down on his side. Just in case, he also pulled the trashcan in
the room over beside the bed.
Jeremy was unconscious almost as soon as he lay down.
Mason went back out and did the unpleasant chore of cleaning up Jeremy's
mess. It wasn't fun, but it went fast. He hosed off the pavement after he
finished.
Then he was right back inside his cabin. Mason stared down at Jeremy and
felt a riot of emotion. He was happy to be near him, sad that Jeremy was
in such a state, and he felt a fierce protective urge toward him. He also
had the overpowering need to be close and to feel Jeremy's skin against his
own.
Mason stripped, and he gingerly climbed into bed. He slipped behind the
smaller man, and he soon spooned him.
He lay there and put his arm around the redhead. And he very slowly rubbed
Jeremy's chest and belly with his hand. Jeremy made a small, contented
sound and Mason smiled.
"I'm gonna be nice to you. And you do deserve it." Mason whispered in his
ear. He settled in and got more comfortable.
Mason's arm pulled Jeremy as close as he could, and their bodies pressed
together. "You deserve it. And I'm going to tell you so until you believe
me."